


Five Things That Didn't Happen and a Constant

by Morgane (smilla840)



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Clint swears a lot in life or death situations, Is it still a fix-it if it never happens, M/M, Movie AU, SHIELD-centric, Still spoilery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-14
Updated: 2012-07-14
Packaged: 2017-11-09 22:58:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilla840/pseuds/Morgane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki takes Fury instead of Clint (Movie AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Things That Didn't Happen and a Constant

**Author's Note:**

> I was wondering what would have happened if Clint hadn’t been under Loki’s control for most of the movie. The fic turned out to be mostly about what happens at SHIELD behind the scenes.
> 
> Originally posted at my livejournal.

Here is what happens:

Clint rolls out of the way just in time and then Loki is standing right in front of him.

Here is what happens:

Clint is a second too slow and the energy blast slams him into a wall.

\---

Clint opens his eyes.

He doesn’t remember closing them but he must have blacked out for a few seconds because the guy with the glowy stick that looks too much like the tesseract for comfort is now standing in front of Fury. Clint’s ears are ringing and he’s lost his gun but nothing feels broken so he lies still and palms his knives. The way that guy is looking at Fury – like he is some kind of bug – tells him things are going to get ugly fast: Fury kind of sucks at diplomacy and Clint needs to have his back when he pisses the other guy off.

As if on cue Fury says something about SHIELD and not negotiating and Clint can’t decide which one of them looks less impressed with the other. It would almost be funny except –

“You could be useful,” the other guy – Loki, that’s his name – says and puts his staff on Fury’s chest.

Fury just stands there, like it’s no big deal if his one eye is suddenly _bright blue_ , and Clint doesn’t think twice, he lets a knife fly. He’s diving behind some equipment without waiting to see if it’s found its target and not a moment too soon, a blast making a dent into the wall at the spot where he was just seconds ago. So he keeps moving, leaving behind him a trail of gutted and smoking millions of dollar equipment, until he runs out of stuff to hide behind and has to make a stand.

Loki however seems to have lost interest because nothing else explodes and Clint takes advantage of the brief respite to try his radio, cursing silently when all he gets is static. It must have been damaged when he first hit the wall and so he risks a quick peek at the rest of the room to try and assess how screwed he is. Loki is doing the staff thing to Selvig and Clint twists around for a better view because he’s got no idea what it does to people and that’s making him nervous, especially when he doesn’t have eyes on Fury.

What the hell is going on?

The crunch of glass nearby has him tensing, his other knife at the ready, but it’s Fury who appears next to him.

“Sir?” Clint asks with a frown and that second of hesitation is his downfall because Fury? Fury doesn’t hesitate.

He just raises his arm and shoots Clint. Centre mass. And then walks away.

Clint lies on the floor, his breathing shallow. The vest stopped the bullet or he would probably be dead by now but it fucking hurts and he has to fight to keep his eyes open, to see what happens next. Fury puts the tesseract in a suitcase and then he, Selvig and – is that Williams? – follow Loki out of the door.

_Get up,_ Clint tells himself. _Get up and move._

Getting his body to do things it really doesn’t want to do is something he’s unfortunately had a lot of practice at and so he does. He gets up and he stumbles after them, only stopping long enough to grab a gun and a radio from a fallen agent, picking up speed as he goes.

“Director Fury’s been compromised,” he says to anyone who is listening. “He’s got a hostile with him, I think they’re headed top side. I’m going after them.”

“Negative, Barton,” a voice interjects and Clint winces because he had thought – hoped – that Phil would have left by now. But then Clint is still there so of course Phil is too. Clint married someone as stubborn as he is. “The place is about to blow, you need to evacuate.”

“Phil, they’ve got the tesseract,” he says and he knows he’s skirting the line of professionalism but he’ll make up for it later if he is still around. If he isn’t – and let’s face it, the odds are not looking so good – then this is his only chance to make Phil understand. If he dies today it will be for a damn good reason and maybe that’s only a small comfort but it’s all he’s got right now. Loki can’t keep the tesseract. If Clint can’t get it back, well… Better it blows up with the rest of the place.

Phil is silent and it’s Hill who cuts in with Clint’s orders.

“Get it back, Barton,” she says so Phil doesn’t have to. They both know Phil would never forgive himself if he were the one ordering Clint to his death and Clint is so fucking grateful that he almost stumbles before catching himself and forging on. 

“Get out of here,” he tells them both and keeps running.

He almost catches up with Loki on sublevel 2 but a volley of bullets forces Clint back behind a corner, halting his progress. He thinks it’s Williams because it certainly isn’t Selvig and Fury wouldn’t have missed. Clint likes the guy but quite frankly right now that’s not really the problem. The problem is that he’s got no shot and he is pinned down – not that it’s going to matter soon. The ground under his feet is starting to rumble, the whole place minutes if not seconds away from coming down on their heads and Clint hopes Phil got the hell out of there when he told him to because his window of opportunity is closing fast.

Clint’s instincts are screaming at him that he needs to move _now_. Staying here means death and he isn’t giving up, not yet, not when Phil is waiting for him. 

After four long and excruciatingly boring months at the facility he knows these hallways like the back of his hand and if he can’t go past Williams Clint will have to go around him. The others must have reached the surface by now, heading for Fury’s helicopter, and Clint starts running in the direction he just came from because he’s got an idea, a fucking brilliant idea and all he needs is two minutes tops, two little minutes.

He bursts into the hangar as the vibrations intensify, almost throwing him to the ground, but he makes it into a Quinjet – barely – and hurls himself into the pilot seat.

“Come on,” he mutters, strapping himself in while the engines power on, “Come on, baby, you can do it.”

And then he is in the air, his take-off much sloppier than usual but the ground is freaking _disintegrating_ under him and no one is watching anyway, and it takes him less than three seconds to spot his target.

He only gets a few shots off before the entire compound collapses behind him but it’s enough. He knows he is too close even before the shockwave of the explosion hits him and sends the Quinjet into an uncontrolled spin, and as Clint is going down he at least has the satisfaction to know that he’s taking them down with him.

He crashes.

It’s actually a first for him and his saving grace is that he didn’t have time to get very high above ground, didn’t have time to pick up much speed. _Had_ time to strap himself in. He still gets knocked out – again – and when he comes to his chest is killing him, although whether that’s from his close encounter with a bullet or the crash is anybody’s guess. 

But he is alive and all in all he’s had much worse.

Clint pats the console affectionately and sets out to find if the radio is still working. Small miracle, it actually is – his day is definitely looking up.

“This is Barton, anyone copy?”

“Go ahead, Agent Barton,” the calm voice of the agent in charge of monitoring the emergency channel on the Helicarrier answers.

“Could you patch me through to whoever’s in charge of the evacuation on the ground?”

“Stand by for Deputy-Director Hill.”

A few seconds of silence during which Clint tries not to be disappointed that he isn’t being transferred to Phil, and then:

“Barton, I swear you have more lives than a cat,” Hill says and Clint grins.

“I’m not complaining. Listen, I shot the helicopter that had the tesseract and Fury on board out of the sky, you need to send people to their location. Also you might want to watch out for some guy named Loki, he’s got a staff that sends some sort of energy blast. It’s also some kind of mind-control device, so come to think of it you might want to watch out for Fury too. Fucker tried to shoot me.”

“Barton, that’s the Director you’re talking about.”

“He knows I say it with love.”

“Stay on the line.”

“Not going anywhere,” he mumbles to himself and listens with one ear to Hill issuing slightly muffled orders to find Fury’s helicopter and then dispatching a team to its location with a quick summary of Clint’s intel.

It’s incredibly boring and Clint’s toying with the idea of saying to hell with it and contacting the Helicarrier again to be patched through to Phil – Phil who probably thinks Clint is _dead_ and he really needs to rectify that right now. Unless…

Unless there is a reason Maria is making him wait on the line. What if Phil is the one who didn’t make it out, what if – 

Clint’s fingers close around the wedding ring he carries around his neck and for what feels like forever he just holds on to it until finally:

“You still there, Barton?”

“Yeah.”

“You can thank me later.”

_Thank you for what,_ Clint wants to ask and then someone else is on the line.

“Clint,” Phil says and Clint closes his eyes, slowly relaxing his hold on his wedding band. Phil is fine. They’re both fine.

“Hey,” he says, “Good to hear your voice.”

It’s hardly the first time one of them has almost died in the field but it was a close one even by their standards. Judging by the way Phil takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, he agrees. 

“Likewise. What happened?”

“I crashed –”

“Barton –” The steel is back in Phil’s voice and Clint continues hurriedly:

“But I’m fine, just a few bruises. I’m going to need a ride though.”

Phil sighs and Clint knows he’s rubbing his forehead. He winces. He hates it when he’s the reason for that particular gesture.

“I’ll have someone pick you up as soon as possible.” Another sigh then Phil says, softer: “You’re fine?”

“I’m fine,” Clint repeats just as quietly. 

That Phil needs the confirmation tells Clint just how shaken he still is because Phil knows Clint doesn’t downplay injuries in the field, not since that one mission a year into Clint’s employment with SHIELD when he had omitted to tell anyone he had fallen off a building and promptly passed out on the ride home. Phil – he had still been Coulson back then – had ripped him a new one the second he had opened his eyes in medical and then again three days later to make sure it stuck.

It did.

Someone shouts Phil’s name in the background and Clint knows their time is up. It was more than they usually get.

“I’ve got to go, we’re regrouping to the Helicarrier,” Phil says. “I’ll see you there.”

“Yes, sir,” Clint quips because he knows it makes Phil smile and then he signs off and settles down to wait.

-

When his ride drops him off on the Helicarrier the first thing he notices is that the place is a mess. The second is that Phil is right in the middle of it, directing personnel and crates to their proper place to try and clear the runways as quickly as possible. Their eyes meet and hold as they nod to each other – they’re here, they’re alive – and then Phil goes back to his work. 

There will be time for more later.

Clint goes to medical. The place is depressingly quiet, which doesn’t bode well for the search and rescue effort still going on on the ground, and he is in and out quickly. A physical exam and chest x-rays later – minor concussion, no broken ribs but some very extensive bruising – he is heading for the bridge, a bottle of painkillers in hand. Phil isn’t there yet but Hill is and she jerks her head towards the adjacent conference room, signalling he is to wait there. Clint nods sharply and goes. 

His watch tells him it’s almost 2 am as he sits down at the table but he’s too wired to feel tired. He knows Hill will want to debrief as soon as Phil gets there so he grabs a note pad and starts writing down everything he can remember, adding details as they come back to him – didn’t Selvig say something about Loki being Thor’s brother?

He’s mostly done by the time Phil comes in. When Hill fails to appear at his shoulder Clint is on his feet instantly, meeting him halfway for a kiss that doesn’t last nearly long enough before Phil takes a reluctant step back. A second later Hill comes in and pretends not to notice the tight grip Clint still has on Phil’s jacket.

He wonders if Phil had been counting the seconds Hill probably gave them in his head. He wouldn’t put it past him.

“Did we get Fury back?” Clint asks as they take their seats and the pinched look on Hill’s face tells him he isn’t going to like the answer.

“No. They got away with the tesseract and the vehicle of the team we had sent to retrieve them. We lost two agents, four are in the hospital and three are MIA. What the hell happened down there, Barton?”

So Clint tells them. He tells them about a doorway that goes both way and Loki and his plans and his staff and when he can’t think of anything else to say he answers questions instead, until even those die off and he gets to ask some of his own.

“How bad is it down there?”

Phil and Hill share a look. “Sitwell is coordinating search and rescue. We’ve still got about two dozen persons unaccounted for.”

Clint winces, thinking about the agents and scientists in the tesseract room who never got up and are now buried under tons of rubble.

“I can probably help with that list,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

At Hill’s nod Phil absents himself from the room for a minute, coming back with a sheet of paper. It’s got 25 names on it and Clint knows most of them. He grits his teeth and starts crossing out names and when he’s done they’re down to 16. The three of them stare at it for a few seconds – SHIELD has lost people before but never so many at once – before professionalism reasserts itself. Hill takes the list and stands. 

“I’ll let Sitwell know,” she says, all business. “Let’s reconvene at 7 am, go over our options.”

“That’s it?” Clint asks as soon as the door closes behind her, frustration driving him to his feet as he starts pacing.

“Nothing else to do,” Phil says with a shrug. “Every agency worldwide is on the lookout for Loki and Fury. We’re using facial recognition programs on every camera feed available to us – if they show up in a public place, we’ll know.”

He looks tired and he is also right and Clint who hates feeling helpless deflates a little.

“You’re right,” he sighs and comes to stand behind him, tugging him to his feet. “Come on, let’s go to bed. We might as well get some rest.”

He has a feeling they’re going to need it in the next few days.

Back in their quarters they undress each other, Phil wincing at the bruises more than Clint does when he pulls his T-shirt over his head.

“How’s the head?” he asks and Clint kisses him instead of answering. He is fine. 

They make love slowly, curled around each other. Phil takes his time, careful with him even as Clint tries to urge him on. But Phil can be terrifyingly single-minded when he wants to be and he won’t be hurried, not until Clint comes with a broken sound, tension draining from his body all at once. Only then do Phil’s thrusts get a little erratic, his control slipping, breaking.

“I’m fine. I’m fine, Phil,” Clint says, making no effort to be quiet because he knows what it does to Phil. “Fuck, I love you so fucking much.”

Phil kisses him and there is an edge of desperation, some left-over fear in his kiss that Clint desperately wants to soothe. It may also be an attempt to shut him up but if it is it’s too late because Phil’s control is gone, his fingernails digging into Clint, his thrusts suddenly faster, harder. It’s a little uncomfortable but Clint doesn’t mind, in fact he loves it, loves that he can make Phil lose control like that. He ruts into him and it doesn’t last long after that, Phil coming with a shudder and something close to a sob, his arms around Clint like he never wants to let go.

Afterwards they lie in bed wrapped around each other, tired and yet unable to find sleep.

“What do you think Hill’s going to do?” Clint asks, his head pillowed on Phil’s chest. With Fury MIA she’s in charge of SHIELD and he doesn’t envy her one bit.

For the longest time Phil doesn’t say anything and Clint is starting to think that maybe he’s finally succumbed to sleep when Phil says:

“I think she’ll do what Fury would want her to do.”

\---

Here is what happens:

Fury reactivates the Avengers Initiative and sends Phil to recruit Iron Man.

Here is what happens:

Hill reactivates the Avengers Initiative. She sends Phil to recruit Iron Man and Captain America.

\---

It’s been two days since Loki.

Two days spent trying to locate him and the tesseract and coming up with squat. Two days spent trying to convince the WSC that the Avengers are their best shot and not getting anywhere.

They’ve already made contact with Dr. Banner – privately Clint thinks sending Natasha after him is a terrible idea but he’d never say that out loud, and certainly not to her face. At least with Banner they have plausible deniability: Avenger or not he’s still their best shot at tracking the gamma radiation the tesseract emits.

Hill is getting frustrated, Clint can tell, but then he would be too if all a bunch of bureaucrats would talk about was whether he was good enough at his job to keep it. They want to appoint an interim director while Fury is incapacitated and Hill is fighting them tooth and nails. The last thing they need right now is some WSC-appointed figurehead who doesn’t know the ropes.

They’re finally green-lit to contact Stark – strictly on a consultant basis – and Clint gets the call that he’s to fly Phil to New York.

He’s starting the take-off sequence when Phil comes on board, dropping into the co-pilot seat with an air of barely contained excitement.

“She told you to go ahead and talk to Rogers too, didn’t she?” Clint says with an indulgent smile because he married a nerd and it’s just one of the many things he loves about Phil.

“Yes, Captain Rogers is to be made aware of the situation,” Phil says, like he is the epitome of professionalism and did not spend most of his spare time watching the man sleep when they first found him. To be fair everyone did at one point or another but it was incredibly boring and Phil is the only one who stuck around for as long as he did. The novelty did wear off eventually, which is lucky or Clint may have had to complain that he never got to see his husband anymore.

“Are you going to ask him to sign your cards?” he teases gently, keeping his eyes on the instruments as he takes the Quinjet up – God, he loves flying.

“That would be unprofessional,” Phil protests but he sounds torn and Clint decides that if Phil doesn’t he’ll do it for him – it’ll make a great Christmas present.

-

The meeting with Stark goes about as well as predicted. Natasha was right, the man is a nightmare but Clint has to respect a guy who builds his own suit of armour and flies around fighting bad guys, no matter how much of an egomaniac he is.

So he leans back against a wall and lets Phil do his thing, going unnoticed – just the way he likes it – for a while until Stark finally spots him and does a double-take. Clint gives a little wave.

“He’s with you, I take it?” he asks Phil who just looks back at Stark blandly, and it’s Pepper Potts who defuses the situation.

“Agent… Barton, was it?” she says with a smile and Clint gives a sharp nod, a little surprised that she remembers. 

They have only met once. She was having coffee with Phil and Clint arrived to pick him up a little early and had to invent an emergency at the office to explain his presence. He hates that it’s necessary but as far as Pepper’s concerned Phil is dating a cellist. While his relationship with Clint is common knowledge among SHIELD’s higher echelon it’s still need-to-know for civilians and there is no point in putting Miss Potts at risk with information that isn’t relevant to her. Clint has a feeling she already has enough of that with Stark.

“Nice to see you again, M’am,” he says, his tone as dry as Phil’s.

“Christ, there are two of you,” Stark mutters and Clint raises a perfect eyebrow at him just to fuck with him – if he can’t have a little fun, Phil should have told him to wait in the car.

It works well enough: Stark is momentarily distracted, asking Pepper petulantly if she knows Clint’s first name too and not noticing when she drops Phil’s brief in his hands. After that it’s only a matter of letting Stark’s natural curiosity take over – for all his bluster Stark is fairly predictable.

One down.

-

Rogers isn’t at his apartment when they get there but reports from the surveillance team which was initially assigned to him when he first moved off base show a pattern: whenever Rogers can’t sleep he either goes to the diner on the corner or to the gym three blocks away.

The diner is a bust but the sounds of someone hitting a punching bag reach them before they even make it past the dark reception at the gym and Clint knows they’ve found him.

“Breathe,” he tells Phil with a grin, pulling him close for a quick kiss. Then Phil smoothes down the lapels of his suit and nods once before he walks in, back ramrod straight. Clint follows, taking position by the door.

Unlike Stark Rogers notices Clint as soon as he stops hitting the crap out the bag – which was a little impressive, by the way – and turns around. Also unlike Stark, he doesn’t dismiss Phil as just a suit on sight, causing something inside Clint to loosen. He may tease Phil about his fanboy obsession with all things Captain America but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t kick Rogers’s ass if he was a dick to Phil. Fortunately all the reports that agree on Rogers being a stand-up guy seem to be right for once and Clint is glad.

Convincing Rogers to meet with them isn’t that difficult – again, decent guy: the world being in peril always does the trick – and Clint pushes off the wall with a nod in his direction before following Phil out.

They’ve got a full house.

-

Loki shows up in Germany and they go after him. It’s too easy but then Thor appears out of nowhere to make things more interesting and by the time they’re all back on the Helicarrier with Loki more or less secured they still have no idea what his endgame is.

\---

Here is what happens:

They fight with each other, alone and divided, and Clint starts the attack on the Helicarrier with an explosive arrow.

Here is what happens:

Clint meets Natasha’s eyes across the room and they are already team. Fury attacks the Helicarrier with a rocket launcher.

\---

They’re bickering like children and Clint’s had enough. Judging by the look on her face so has Natasha. _They_ ’re Fury’s hope and Phil’s dream? Yeah, no, Clint isn’t impressed. Genius, supersoldier, god – it doesn’t matter one bit to him, not if they can’t stop arguing with each other long enough to get the job done. He doesn’t _fucking care_ if SHIELD is developing weapons, there are more important things at stake right now.

He meets Tasha’s eyes and they nod at each other, heading for the door in perfect unison.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Stark calls after them and they stop in the doorway, looking back to survey the scene behind them.

Well, at least they’ve stopped screaming at each other.

“We’ve got a job to do,” Clint says with a shrug.

“So what, you don’t need us anymore?” Stark asks derisively and Natasha takes a dangerous step in his direction. Wisely he steps back.

“We’ve been doing fine without you for years,” she says, her tone matching Stark’s level of derision. “If you’re not interested in helping then yes, we don’t need you.”

Rogers has the good grace to look ashamed of himself.

“Of course we’ll help,” he says, glaring Stark into submission when the man opens his mouth. Stark glares right back but he still nods and then so does Thor and –

And then the ship explodes around them. Clint’s training kicks in and he reaches out for Natasha, meeting her extended hand, and they manage to hold onto each other as they get thrown backwards by the force of the blast.

\---

Here is what happens:

Phil grabs the biggest gun they have and goes after Loki.

Here is what happens:

Phil is needed on the bridge and so he stays right where he is.

\---

Clint tries to keep track of the others over the comm. as he and Natasha fight their way towards the bridge to stop Fury. Stark and Rogers are dealing with the downed engine and Thor is dealing with the Hulk – which is good because Clint doesn’t think anyone else is equipped for that particular task. Phil is on the bridge with Hill, trying to stop Fury’s men from taking over. Clint is pretty sure he recognises some of them – from SHIELD’s most wanted list if he’s not mistaken – and he has to wonder how many of them have actually been brainwashed and how many are just doing it for the hell of it.

They finally reach the bridge just as Fury takes out another engine. They’re going down and it’s all up to Stark and Rogers now.

“Stop Fury,” Hill tells them, pointing at the gallery above. She and Phil look a little banged up but they have the situation under control and so Clint nods at Tasha. She takes a few steps back and runs to Clint, stepping onto his linked hands as he uses her momentum to boost her up before following.

And then they find Fury.

He is good but they’re better. Maybe he could have taken them out one-on-one but they don’t give him the opportunity. They fight together or not at all, pulling back when he tries to separate them, regrouping and advancing again. It’s a dance, one they’ve spent years honing together.

Fury doesn’t stand a chance.

Natasha takes him out with a well-placed kick to the head – and then does it again for good measure. Clint raises an eyebrow at her, panting, and she just shrugs. She looks barely out of breath.

“Just making sure,” she says. “How are your ribs?”

“Well, they _were_ getting better. Right now it hurts like hell. You good?”

She nods and Clint thumbs his comm.

“Bridge, we’ve got Fury. Anywhere you need us?”

“Negative,” Phil says. “We’ve got things under control here. We lost Banner and Thor though. And Loki got away.”

“Shit,” Clint says with feelings, relaying the intel to Natasha who echoes the sentiment.

“On the plus side we’re no longer falling to our death, so there is that.”

“Is that snark I hear, Agent Coulson?” Clint grins. A good fight always makes Phil a little punchy.

“Figure it out, Agent Barton.”

“If the two of you are done flirting on the comm., we should get Fury to lock-up,” Natasha interrupts but the look on her face is indulgent. For someone who doesn’t believe in love she’s always been Clint and Phil’s greatest supporter.

“Sorry, Natasha says I’ve got to go back to work,” Clint tells Phil and then hauls Fury down five flights of narrow stairs to a cell – which doesn’t really help with the bruises.

He leaves Natasha to deal with him. She has more experience with mind-control than Clint ever wants to gain and if anyone can help Fury it’s her. Besides he needs a couple of painkillers.

-

Then they’re heading to New York to stop Loki and find themselves facing an invasion. So they fight.

\---

Here is what happens:

After New York they go back to the Helicarrier and Natasha takes Clint aside and tells him his husband is dead.

Here is what happens:

After New York they go back to the Helicarrier and Phil is waiting for him.

\---

They hand Loki over to a squad of agents armed to the teeth and then Fury comes to stand in front of them with Phil just a step behind.

“Good job, team.” Fury says like he hasn’t just spent days under the control of a power-hungry god – a power-hungry god who is currently being led out of sight just a few feet away.

“Good to have you back, sir,” Clint offers and Natasha nods along with him.

The rest of the team looks less enthusiastic and Clint can’t really blame them – Fury _did_ try to kill them less than a few hours ago. But on their way back Clint has come to the conclusion that it could easily have been any one of them – hell, it could have been _him_ , he was there when Loki first showed up and it’s dumb luck that made him take Fury instead. And if it _had_ been him he wouldn’t want everyone walking on eggshells around him, a constant reminder of what he had done, because he doesn’t think he would need any help with that.

The least he can do is give Fury the same courtesy.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Clint continues because if there is something else he’s good at it’s creating a diversion. He figures Fury can owe him one. “I need a moment with my husband.”

He doesn’t look at the others when he says it, just Fury who raises an eyebrow at him. Clint thinks he looks vaguely amused.

“You’ve got five minutes before debriefing starts, Barton. I trust it’ll be enough?”

“Five minutes, sir? You wound me.”

“Not one more, Barton,” Fury says sternly but Clint knows him better than that. He was Phil’s best man at their wedding after all and he’s definitely amused. And so is Phil for that matter when Clint risks a quick glance in his direction.

So Clint gives a sloppy salute and holds out a hand towards Phil. Behind him Stark starts choking.

Phil is the one who kisses him on the deck for all the Avengers to see and Clint can’t stop smiling because they’re both here. They made it.

Also he thinks Stark might be dying.

“Clock’s ticking, gentlemen,” Fury reminds them before leaving them to it and Clint has to privately disagree.

They have all the time in the world.

(Or at least until the next time the world ends anyway.)

\---

Here is what happens:

Phil comes back.

Here is what happens:

Phil never leaves.

Either way they get their happy ending.


End file.
